Archie's Deal
by darcyfarrow
Summary: After a three-year onslaught of attacks from enemies and would-be killers and enslavers, Gold's in no shape for marriage. So how come Archie agreed to officiate at Belle and Rumple's wedding–and looked so pleased about it?


"Dr. Hopper, a word?"

"Certainly, Mr. Gold. Come in. How may I help you?"

"Officiate at my wedding this evening."

"Uh. . . Uhm. . . Your. . . "

"Wedding. Yes. Tonight."

"Uh. . . "

"You're repeating yourself, Doctor."

"You and, ah, Belle."

"I assure you, Doctor, despite what you're thinking, Belle has not taken leave of her senses, nor has her father traded her to me for the return of his van. You may ask her yourself, if you have any concerns about coercion, bribery, threats of bodily harm or rent increases–"

"No, Mr. Gold, not at all. I've come to know Belle quite well in the past year, and if she agreed to marry you, I'm sure that's what she truly wants."

"Then you'll officiate?"

"Uh, no."

"I see. You think I'll misuse her, corrupt her, abuse her trust, betray her, break her heart."

"No. I've seen how respectful and caring of her you've been, even when she thought she was Lacey. I have no doubt you'd honor and cherish her."

"Then, you think I'm not worthy of her."

"No. You sacrificed your life for her and Neal. In my books, your worth is beyond question."

"Then why will you not officiate our wedding?"

"Mr. Gold, you've been put through the wringer these past three years, starting with August Booth, Hook and Cora, and then your father, and now Zelena, and most of all, the loss of your son. You've undergone physical, mental and emotional tortures that the healthiest of bodies and minds couldn't survive. There is no way, Mr. Gold, that you could have come out of all that intact. Your suffering must be unimaginable, and yet, you've kept it bottled up. You're going to explode like a volcano one of these days, Mr. Gold; you have to, if you're going to survive. Marriage is not the right step for you at this time."

"You presume to know what's good for me, when, if I totaled the minutes you've spent talking to me, here and in the Enchanted Forest, it would barely be sufficient to move the hands on the library tower clock."

"Yes, Mr. Gold, I presume. The fact that you asked for counseling only once is proof to me that you're in a dangerous place. Do you really want Belle, after all she's been through, to have to watch her husband come apart at the seams? Because it's going to happen, I guarantee it, and sooner rather than later."

"I. . .need her. She's all that's keeping me alive right now."

"Don't put that burden on her, Mr. Gold. Not if you love her–and I know you do. Marry her, yes–you and she belong together–but not yet. Get healthy first."

"I can't, without her. I can't risk losing her. She's all I have."

"You risk far more by clinging to her. You're a drowning man. Don't pull her under with you."

"You're suggesting I–let her go?"

"Not at all. You said to her once that she made you stronger; you make her stronger too. I've watched her grow from an uncertain, confused victim of the Evil Queen into a confident, secure woman, and much of that strength she has now came from her relationship with you. But your hold on her will become a stranglehold if you make her your entire world, and that's what you're doing by rushing into marriage. You're afraid she'll leave you, the way everyone else did, so you're trying to lock her down by marrying her. Loosen your hold; it's the only way your relationship can survive. Take care of yourself, so that when you marry her, it's out of love, not insecurity."

"You're overlooking a crucial fact, Doctor: I may be weakened, but I'm still the Dark One. If the past three years have proven anything, it's that I have no shortage of enemies and would-be killers and masters. Her association with me makes her vulnerable. I tried pushing her away, repeatedly, but I've come to realize our love is undeniable. The only way I can protect her from the next Hook or Regina is by keeping her close, behind the shield of my magic."

"I see. . . .Mr. Gold. I'll made a deal with you. I'll officiate your wedding–"

"Tonight."

"Tonight. If you'll agree to start twice-weekly therapy sessions with me,beginning tomorrow."

"And ending when?"

"When I say they're no longer necessary."

". . .Give me one week's honeymoon first."

"All right, Mr. Gold. We start eight days from now. Two sessions a week, two hours per session, until I say we're done, and I'll officiate your wedding."

"The wishing well, eleven o'clock tonight. Dress formally. And warmly."

"We have a deal, I take it?"

"We have a deal."

"Mr. Gold? Congratulations."


End file.
